More There to Love
by sinovenator
Summary: Chubby!Zacharie/Sugar. Everyone's favorite fourth-wall-destroying merchant is feeling insecure about his weight, so naturally his girlfriend decides to show up at the most awkward possible moment.


"Okay, let's start with one pushup. Just take it slow, Zacharie. C'mon, man, you can do this. Uuups-a-daisy… nnng… _gah_… _FUCK_!" He collapsed and ended up flat on his face with his ass sticking up in the air. "Oookay. That could have gone better," he muttered, sitting back and slipping a hand under his mask to rub his aching forehead.

Currently shirtless, he gazed down at his hairy gut ruefully. Lately he'd been trying to get in shape for his girlfriend, but he was a _merchant_, for God's sake, not an athlete.

Speaking of athletes, the Batter happened to walk in just as Zacharie faceplanted a second time.

_Shit. Play it cool, Zach, play it cool._ "Well. I can't say I was expecting to show off my behind to _you_ of all people." Laughing, he stood and brushed himself off.

"Whatever," grunted the Batter. He glanced around Zacharie's small, makeshift shop. "Anything new?"

"Ah, enthusiastic as always," said Zacharie, strolling over to stand behind the counter. "As it happens, I just got new shipments of bats and defensive equipment. Feel free to have a look around."

"Okay." The Batter considered him for a moment, nose wrinkling with obvious distaste; though he said nothing, it wasn't difficult to guess what he was thinking. He snorted and turned his attention back to the merchandise stacked against the wall.

Zacharie's stomach twisted with shame as he swiped his shirt off the counter and squeezed into it, all too aware of the way his love handles squished out the bottom. He'd have discarded the ratty old thing long ago, but unfortunately shirts that fit him were hard to come by in a world where most of the people were so scrawny a light wind could've carried them off.

His eyes strayed to the Batter, who had shrugged off his tunic and was trying on a new one. After the obligatory gay thoughts he knew must be courtesy of the fanfic writer, Zacharie couldn't help but envy the easy grace with which the purifier moved, taut muscles flowing smoothly beneath his unearthly white skin. Not an ounce of flab to be found on _that_ body.

Zacharie was glad that his mask kept his expression carefully neutral as the Batter approached the counter to pay for his purchase. It wouldn't do to be caught scowling at his best—his _only_—customer.

"Don't be a stranger," he said lightly as the Batter turned to leave. Without a word the purifier stalked off, shutting the door behind him. Zacharie lifted his mask long enough to blow a raspberry in the stuck-up jerk's general direction.

He would have spent the next couple of hours wallowing in a volatile mix of self-loathing and resentment toward the Batter, but just then his girlfriend showed up.

"Well fuck you too, sinovenator," he growled under his breath. She danced over to him, face bright with _that_ smile, the one that usually sent a pleasant thrill through him as if he'd taken a plunge on Zone 2's roller coaster. Now, though, it just made his insides churn with anxiety.

He leaned forward and rested his elbows on the counter, hiding his plump belly from view. "Ah, my sweetest Sugar," he said with a pathetic stab at enthusiasm that even made _him_ wince. "What brings you here?"

"I wanna buy a bat so I can knock some sense into you," she said sarcastically, but her eyes shone with mirth. "I'm here to see _you_, ya dork. What else?"

Instinctively he sucked in his gut and pulled his shirt down over it. "Of course, of course. What else indeed, ahaha…"

Sugar raised an eyebrow. "You okay? You're all hunched over and sweaty."

"I'm fine," Zacharie replied hastily. A bit too hastily, judging by the suspicious look on his girlfriend's face.

"Ohhh. _I_ know what's going on." Her tone was solemn, and a bolt of panic shot up the merchant's spine. "There's something you desperately need… something you just can't accomplish on your own."

"I…" Oh God, now she was climbing the counter. He backed away, holding up his hands. "I don't know what you—"

"A good _tickle_!" She pounced, bowling him over, and was digging her fingers mercilessly into his chubby sides before they touched down.

Their laughter filled the stale air, one voice deep, the other high and girlish, yet the two meshed together in a way that made Zacharie's heart pound just a bit harder. At last they lay together in an exhausted heap. He flinched when Sugar pressed her cheek against his belly with a soft sigh; his shirt had ended up halfway up his torso thanks to their scuffle. But her expression was utterly serene, as if there were nowhere else in the world she'd rather be than right here, snuggling into his fuzzy love handles.

Chest filling with warmth, he stroked her hair tenderly, all thoughts of working out forgotten.


End file.
